


First Zip, Then Fasten

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-04
Updated: 1999-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11130009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser helps a child at the request of his mother.





	First Zip, Then Fasten

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    First Zip Then Fasten
    
    By Courser
    
    Rating:  G (possibly S for sappy and sweet)
    
    Warnings:  None, this is safe for anyone to read
    
    Notes:  This is in response to a challenge to have Fraser use the words,
    First Zip, Then Fasten in a story. 
            This story is the first thing that occurred to me.
    
    Pairings:  None 
    
    Constable Fraser was headed toward the exit of the Municipal Building,
    when he heard the call of nature.  On official business for the Consulate,
    he'd just finished reviewing the security arrangements for the upcoming
    visit of the Canadian Trade Minister and obviously had one too many cups
    of tea.   He quickly located the men's room, just barely taking note
    of a harried young woman holding an infant near the door. 
    
    "Excuse me, officer."  Her anxious voice stopped his progress.
    
    "Yes ma'am.  Though I'm actually a Constable with the RCMP and not an
    officer of the law in this jurisdiction." 
    
    "Yes, I recognized the uniform.  Could you help me?  My son's only 5
    and he went in there 10 minutes ago.  He must be having some kind of
    problem...would you check on him for me? I'm sorry, but it's hard to
    know who to trust these days." 
    
    "Of course, ma'am, I'll be happy to check on your son.  Don't worry,
    I'm sure he's fine."  
    
    Fraser continued into the men's room and immediately spotted the child
    near row of sinks, his blond head barely reaching the top of the porcelain.
    His face was turned down, flushed as he struggled with the zipper on
    his tiny jeans.  He'd managed the button at the top, but the thick fabric
    had bunched up on itself, making it almost impossible for his little
    fingers to draw the zipper up.  
    
    "Having a little trouble are we?"  he addressed the boy from a safe distance.
    
    Back at home he would have thought nothing of simply rectifying the situation
    himself and taking him out to his mother, but here in Chicago, he was
    well aware of how such things could be misconstrued.  He squatted down,
    wincing just a bit at the additional pressure it put on his already full
    bladder. 
    
    "I can do it myself"  The child said resignedly.
    
    "Oh, I know you can, but your mother sent me in to check anyway.  You
    know how mothers are, they worry."  
    
    "Yeah."  Was the reply, all the boy's attention was on his fly, his tongue
    working as hard as his fingers.  
    
    "My name's Benton.  What's your name?"  
    
    "Tommy... Ben-ten.  That's a funny name."  He stopped his struggles for
    a moment to look at the man talking to him and taking in the bright red
    of the jacket, added brightly. "Are you a fire man?" 
    
    "No, I'm a policeman, from Canada."  Fraser answered, smiling.
    
    "Where's that?" 
    
    "Quite a long ways north of here, I'm afraid.  You know, Tommy, I think
    I may have a solution to your dilemma." 
    
    "Whatsa dilll..."  still trying to work the zipper.
    
    "Well, it's a problem.  I think you'll find that if you undo the button,
    the zipper will work better."  Fraser explained. 
    
    Tommy looked at him doubtfully.
    
    "Go ahead, it's all right" Benton said in his most soothing voice. 
    
    Little fingers worked the button back through the hole, then drew the
    zipper slowly up and Fraser was rewarded with a smile. 
    
    "Hey, that was easy!"
    
    "Yes, now fasten the button again." 
    
    Tommy rebuttoned his jeans and grinned at him.  
    
    "I told mom I could do it myself!"  
    
    "Of course you can.  Now in the future remember, first zip then fasten."
    
    "Thanks Ben -Ten!"  he threw his arms around Fraser's neck with such
    force he was almost knocked over.  
    
    "You're very welcome.  Now, have you washed your hands?"
    
    "I'm 'sposed to, but I can't reach."  Tommy put his arms up in demonstration.
    
    "Ahhh, I see.  May I?"  Fraser put his hands out to lift him up, the
    child moving trustingly into them. 
    
    Bracing him against his hip, one hand around his middle, Ben helped Tommy
    work the spigots, soap and paper towels.  After putting him down, the
    boy extended his hands for inspection. 
    
    "Very good.  Come on then, Tommy,  your mother's waiting."  He felt a
    warmth of affection as the boy took his hand and they walked out of the
    men's room. 
    
    "Tommy! Are you all right?"  The woman hugged her son with her free arm
    and smiled appreciatively at Fraser. 
    
    "I told you I can do it myself."  Tommy said proudly.
    
    "Slight zipper mishap"  Ben whispered to his mother.  
    
    "Thank you"  she whispered back.  
    
    "I was happy to be of service.  Tommy, remember what I told you."  
    
    As they walked away Fraser heard Tommy's mother asking him what  he was
    supposed to remember. 
    
    "First zip then fasten." The boy repeated.


End file.
